"I've been watching him for a while," Rio said, his tone unusually soft as he nodded toward the limping cat near the park bench. "Wanted to take him home, but…" he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I'm allergic."
Hana looked at him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Allergic to cats, huh? That's ironic for someone who clearly cares."
Rio chuckled, brushing a lock of his hair back into his loose man-bun. "Yeah, I thought maybe fate was giving me a test."
Anne stood nearby, arms crossed and watching the scene unfold with a hint of surprise.
"Well, if you want, I can take him," Hana offered, crouching near the feline. "I'll take him home with me. Better than a shelter."
Rio tilted his head. "How do I know he'll be safe with you?"
Hana raised an eyebrow playfully. "I'll make him an Instagram account. Daily updates, morning and night."
Rio smirked, then leaned in a little. "Or… you could just give me your number? That way I can check in whenever I want."
Hana laughed, not expecting that level of smoothness from this man. "Fine. But only because you said please with your eyes."
They exchanged numbers, and Anne raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She smiled faintly—Hana could handle herself.
⸻
Back at the penthouse, Rayden stood in the kitchen with a glass of whiskey in his hand. When Anne walked in, he glanced up, expression unreadable.
"You're late," he said calmly, but there was a sharpness under the surface.
"I texted Brian," Anne replied.
"Next time, tell me directly. Always."
Anne paused, noting the tension in his jaw. "I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd be out long."
There was a beat of silence before she added, "I ran into Rio at the park."
Rayden's brow rose. "Did you?"
"He's allergic to cats?" Anne asked.
Rayden sighed. "Cats. Nuts. Milk. Pretty much life. Maybe that's why our parents go easier on him."
He didn't seem to notice he was oversharing. Anne, however, caught the weariness in his voice.
"I was thinking," she said gently, changing the subject, "about tomorrow. Will you come with me to pick the ring?"
Rayden nodded. "We'll go in the afternoon. There's a chance the press will catch us, so we'll need to act the part. The affectionate fiancé, the charming bride-to-be. All that."
He gave her a pointed look. "Are you okay with that?"
Anne managed a smile. "I said yes to the whole package. I'll do my best."
⸻
Later that night, Hana sent a message to Rio. It was a picture of the cat's X-ray.
Hana: [No broken bones. Just a soft tissue sprain. He'll heal soon.]
Rio: [Glad to hear it, Dr. Hana.]
Hana: [We're naming him Rokkie. How about that? Any idea?]
Rio: [Sounds like a warrior. Fits him.]
The conversation continued, and somewhere in the quiet exchange about a stray cat, something subtle and new began to spark.
⸻
The next morning, Anne stood in front of her full-length mirror, staring at the three dresses laid across the bed. Her heart thudded in her chest—not because of the media, not even because of Rayden. But because this was real. She was going to walk into the public eye as his fiancée.
She chose a deep green slit maxi dress with gold accents. It hugged her figure in all the right places—elegant, poised, expensive-looking.
As she applied mascara, her phone buzzed.
Noctura Studio: [When can Ms. Dwasond meet with us? We await your confirmation.]
Anne stared at the message for a second. She smile. Then answered.
[Next Tuesday.]
⸻
Downstairs, Brian munched on an apple as Anne descended the stairs.
"Anne!" he grinned. "You look stunning. Want an apple? It'll calm the nerves."
She laughed, shaking her head. "I'll pass."
Rayden appeared soon after, dressed casually in a polo and slacks, cardigan draped over his arm. It was the first time Anne had seen him without the crisp armor of a suit.
Brian was the first to notice. "Anne, did you bring a jacket?"
"I don't have one that matches this dress," she replied.
"What about that fur-lined jacket we bought? It matches Rayden's cardigan perfectly."
Rayden, silent until now, looked at her. "It'll get cold later. You should bring it."
Anne returned upstairs and came down with the jacket. As they left the penthouse, she tried to ignore the pounding of her heart.
⸻
At the luxury mall in Veldarra, a flurry of camera flashes exploded the moment their car door opened. Paparazzi swarmed like moths to a flame, shouting names, speculations, questions.
Anne blinked under the sudden assault of lights. Her breath caught in her throat.
Rayden, ever composed, stepped out first. Then he turned and extended a hand toward her—steady, confident, grounding.
Anne took it.
His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and firm. And just like that, she remembered the role they were playing.
"Smile," he murmured under his breath, voice barely audible through the chaos. "Not too wide. Think 'content girlfriend,' not 'lottery winner.'"
Anne let out a breathy laugh. "Easy for you to say."
They walked forward together, hand in hand, into the high-end mall's main entrance. The clicks of cameras didn't stop, but their world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.
"You're doing great," Rayden said softly, squeezing her hand. "They love this. You… us."
Inside the jewelry store, the atmosphere shifted—cooler, quieter, but the glass walls meant the paparazzi still hovered outside like vultures. A store attendant greeted them with a reverent smile and led them to a private display section.
"Welcome to Aveline Jewels," the woman said, her voice smooth but tinged with excitement. "We've been expecting you, Mr. Lancaster. And Miss…?"
"Dwasond," Rayden answered for her. "Anne Dwasond."
The attendant's eyes briefly flickered to their intertwined hands, then to Anne's face. "It's an honor to have you here. We've prepared a special collection, based on your preferences. Only the finest, of course."
Anne nodded politely, still slightly breathless.
As the trays of diamond rings were unveiled, Anne leaned slightly into Rayden's side—unsure if it was instinct or performance.
"Anything catch your eye?" he asked, his voice low, lips dangerously close to her ear.
Anne stared at the shimmering stones. "They're all beautiful. But too much, maybe…"
Rayden chuckled. "Nothing's too much for a Lancaster fiancée."
She turned to look at him, intending to make a sarcastic retort—but the warmth in his gaze made her falter.
He picked up a delicate ring—platinum band, a single oval-cut diamond with smaller stones embedded along the sides. Timeless. Elegant. Understated.
Rayden took her hand without asking and gently slid the ring onto her finger.
"It fits perfectly," he said, more to himself than to her.
Anne stared at the ring, speechless. It did fit. Like it had always belonged there.
Then—without warning—Rayden leaned in and kissed her cheek.
Click.
Anne stiffened, her heart launching itself against her ribcage. The kiss was brief, soft, calculated.
But it left a flush spreading across her face.
"W-What was that?" she whispered, blinking.
He smiled, calm as ever. "The press needs a highlight shot."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
He tilted his head. "Unless you minded?"
Anne exhaled slowly. "No. It's okay. Just… unexpected."
"I figured we should give them something to write about," he added. "Make it believable."
She didn't respond right away, just stared down at the ring—at the illusion they were both painting so perfectly.
And somehow, part of her didn't want it to be an illusion anymore.
From behind the counter, the attendant spoke again, her voice softer this time. "It looks stunning on her," she said, almost in a whisper. "One of our best pieces. And… the way you two look at each other—it's like a fairytale."
Anne's cheeks warmed further, and she glanced at Rayden, unsure how to respond.
He only nodded politely. "We'll take this one."
The woman beamed. "Of course, Mr. Lancaster. I'll have it packaged immediately."
As she turned away, Anne caught the faintest smile tugging at the woman's lips—like she, too, had been pulled into the spell of their fake love story.
⸻
Elsewhere, Kayla sat in her apartment, eyes glued to her tablet screen.
"Rayden Lancaster spotted ring-shopping with mystery woman—rumored engagement confirmed?"
Her hand clenched around the device. The next second, she hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a sickening crack.
She gritted her teeth, biting her nail until blood surfaced.
"She's not better than me," she hissed at the empty room. "She can't be."
Kayla stared at herself in the mirror—pretty, polished, perfect.
But something in her eyes flickered. Something dark.